


Omega Tommy and Alpha Alfie - One Shots

by Omega_To_Alpha



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Alpha Alfie, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Omega Tommy, One Shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-05 09:49:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17322719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omega_To_Alpha/pseuds/Omega_To_Alpha
Summary: A series of one shots featuring Alpha Alfie and Omega Tommy.Requests are more than welcome!





	1. Preheat Worries

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time since I wrote fan fiction, so apologies if my wording/writing style is a bit rusty! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! x

Preheat Worries. 

“I don’t think I should come to London tomorrow. Cheltenham is close, and May wants my opinion on the horse...”. Alfie hears Tommy trail off at the end of the phone, his voice low and exhausted. His sweet boy, always working. But there’s something off about Tommy’s tone. Alfie maybe many things but he prides himself on knowing when something isn’t right. A sixth sense reserved only for his Omega.

“May is an experienced woman, Tommy, I’m quite sure she can manage without you for one race.” Alfie definitely knows that something isn’t right. He’s already made up his mind that if Tommy doesn’t come to London then Alfie is certainly going to Birmingham. So Alfie uses the one thing that will potentially catch Tommy by surprise. For some reason Tommy believes he has no interest in the horses, but how can he not be interested in one of the few things which lights up his Omega’s eyes? “I saw the report she sent you last week. Fit as a fiddle that horse is. Hasn’t even thrown a shoe. A complete pleasure to ride, and a horse even May would put her money on.” 

Alfie can almost hear Tommy’s thoughts over the phone. He imagines a quiet scrambling noise as Tommy attempts to discover another reason to postpone the visit. “I don’t want to visit London, Alfie.” His tone is clipped. No argument there. The phone goes quiet.

##

That evening Alfie drives to Birmingham. The roads are quiet and dimly lit, just as it should be. The engine hums in the background, a pleasant consistent noise in the unpleasant inconsistency of Alfie’s thoughts. The worst thought, by far, is that he’s done something to offend or upset Tommy, so much so that Tommy wishes to call off their courting. It makes Alfie’s palms sweat. Because if he’s not courting Tommy then another Alpha will... Alfie’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. Knuckles white. 

Alfie forces himself to relax. He has to. There is absolutely nothing substantial to enforce this most ridiculous of thoughts. Tommy and he had parted on excellent terms last week, Tommy had even granted him the permission of a heated kiss in the private snug at the Garrison. His lovely Omega had been shy and nervous, so different from the person Tommy showed to business partners or one time lovers. Those blue eyes had refused to meet his own, a perfect pink flush stained his sinfully sharp cheekbones, a whispered moan of Alfie’s name had broken the quiet. 

Tommy had been hesitant to accept Alfie’s offer of courtship. Societal rules had been enforced on him by an often absent yet domineering father: omegas are weak, omegas are useless, omegas are only good for a knot, omegas are nothing. Tommy had believed, still possibly believed, that society would view him differently for mating an Alpha.   
So Alfie continued his drive to Birmingham, intent on finally chasing those ridiculous thoughts from Tommy’s mind.

##  
The abrupt accusation of “ why are you here?” was not the first thing that Alfie noticed when his intended opened the door. A sweet aroma of fruit, nearing the cusp of ripeness, yet not quite there assaulted Alfie’s senses. A flush stained Tommy’s cheeks. His frame shivered when the cold evening air brushed gently across the exposed skin of his arms. 

And immediately Alfie knew why Tommy wanted to avoid the meeting. To avoid Alfie.   
Tommy’s heat was close. “Well I thought I’d pop in to see my lovely intended,” Alfie began, his eyes focussed on Tommy’s. “Thought it was strange, I did, that you’d cancel at such short notice for such in inconsequential thing as giving an opinion, that we both know is unwarranted, to the lady May. Fucking bullshit, if I ever heard it.”

Alfie knows his words have had an effect when Tommy’s jaw tenses and the coldness returns to his steely gaze. “I wasn’t fucking lying, I said I couldn’t go to London.” 

“And that’s exactly why I’m here,” Alfie states with a wide gesture of his hand. Out the corner of his eye he sees two men across the road, clearly Alphas, pause and scent the air. “I think now would be a good time to invite me in for tea, we both know you don’t want your delectable scent attracting unwanted attention.” 

Tommy doesn’t give Alfie an answer, simply moves to the side just enough for Alfie to squeeze past. He locks and bolts the door. Tommy busies himself with making a pot of tea, the only decent thing he can make. He drags the task out, carefully measuring the water into the pot, deliberating over the number of tea bags, and muttering about John forgetting the milk. 

Alfie knows this routine. He knows to keep his mouth shut and let Tommy figure out his own thoughts. His Omega’s mind is excellent, crackles like electricity but at times the thoughts come too fast, and Tommy requires time to organise them. Or at least that’s what Alfie thinks. Doesn’t really understand it. He jumbles his own words, no thought to them, just lets the other person figure them out. But Tommy is precise, Tommy is controlled-

“My heat will come tomorrow.” Alfie can see how much that small sentence has taken from Tommy. His shoulders drop and he finally joins Alfie at the kitchen table, tea sloshing over the cups. Alfie nods in acknowledgement, but stays silent. Sometimes silence is required. Now is one of those times. 

Tommy takes a shuddering breath, sips his tea. Fumbles about for a cigarette and lights it with shaking hands. Stalling. “The family are away on business at Liverpool, at an equine auction. Curly and Charlie are with them, they should keep them right.” Tommy takes a drag from his cigarette and blows the smoke out slowly. He watches it arc through the air for a second. “My heat will come tomorrow.” Tommy repeats. 

“And the key question here, Tommy, is do you wish for me to spend it with you?” Alfie feels himself becoming tense with desire. Alfie wants this. He’s never spent a heat with an Omega, only heard the stories, but saved it for his intended. And now Tommy is approaching his and Alfie doesn’t know what he’ll do if Tommy declines his offer. Probably spend the next few days pining in his own bed, his cock hard and aching, imagining Tommy needy and wet for the taking...

“I want you.” Tommy swallows. His fingers drum lightly on the table and he refuses to meet Alfie’s eyes. “But I don’t want you to see me.” He whispers finally. Tommy stands and collects the tea pot, pours more tea into a cup that’s still half full. Takes another drag from his cigarette. 

Alfie feels himself frown, for why wouldn’t he want to see his lovely Tommy in heat? “What do you mean, love?” 

“I mean... I don’t know,” Tommy paces, his tea forgotten. Seconds pass by in silence. “I don’t want you to see me like that. Like, like a whore. Begging for you. Out of control.” Tommy’s breathing comes quicker, shallower and Alfie knows where this is heading. When Tommy paces past him he gently grabs his wrist and meets no resistance when he pulls his Omega onto his lap and into a warm embrace. 

The effect is immediate. Tommy buries his nose into Alfie’s neck, scenting beneath his ear and reaffirming their bond. Tommy’s breathing slows as Alfie rubs his back, and gradually the tremors reside. 

“A whore? Tommy, darling, how could I ever think of you as a whore? A heat is a wonderful thing for a couple to experience.” Alfie let’s his words sink in. He knows it will take time for Tommy to believe him, something that he vows to do over the coming months.

Tommy replies in a barely audible whisper, his head still tucked into Alfie’s neck. “What if I beg you to mate me?” And Alfie knows then that they’ve reached the crux of the matter. Alfie shushes Tommy gently and presses a hand to the back of his head to keep him steady. 

“I won’t mate you, Tommy.” Alfie feels Tommy tense and his scent goes sour with hurt. Alfie can imagine the flash of hurt across his face. “Let me finish, love. I want to mate you, I do, but I won’t bite you until you decide before your heat. I don’t want you to feel pushed into this.” Although this is exactly what Alfie wants, to mark Tommy for the world to see, he isn’t controlled by his rut the same way an Omega is during their heat. An Alpha’s prerogative during a rut is to take care of their Omega, ensure they drink and eat enough, and rest while they can. The sex is second, and Alfie knows he can hold back if Tommy wants him to. It would be difficult, but manageable. 

Tommy pulls away from Alfie so he can see his face. His eyes search Alfie’s face, and whatever he’s looking for he obviously finds as a nervous smile graces Tommy’s lips. “Really?” Alfie nods and chuckles when Tommy blushes and ducks his head. “I don’t know about mating,” Tommy begins slowly, “not just yet. But I’d like you to spend my heat with me. If you’d like?” Tommy looks hopeful but still hesitant.

“I’d love to,” And Alfie takes his Omega’s lips in a gentle kiss and pours all of his passion and love into it. “How could I possibly say no to you?”


	2. Scent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was supposed to post this tomorrow but I got my uni days mixed up - turns out I'm in uni tomorrow! So you've got a chapter early! I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Also, thank you all so much for the comments and kudos, they really mean a lot and it has helped boost my confidence in my writing. I've got another one shot written, and I'm currently working on one of the lovely request that got sent in. 
> 
> Thank you! x

Scent 

The telegram lays crumpled on the passenger seat, the words memorised days ago. A name and address. Alfie Solomons. Camden Town. Four fucking words. Four commanding words, yet Tommy is too desperate to ignore them. As if to remind him, fresh blood oozes from the cut on his lip. He licks it away. They’d fucked up. Underestimated Sabini. And now Tommy’s body ached, his ribs protesting every breath, one eye swollen shut, and a lip that won’t stop bleeding. 

Tommy had been more careful this time. When the telegram had arrived on his desk, he’d called a meeting. Family only. Couldn’t risk another rat. They’d discussed the four words, more notably the words Alfie Solomons. They’d managed to piece together information, weeded out the unreliable, focussed only on the information from sources they could trust.

Notorious Jewish gang leader. A bakery that covered for a brewery. Rum. Violent and unpredictable. Locked in a war with the Italians. Commemorated war captain. Alpha.

Tommy’s hands clenched around the wheel as the memories of Arthur and John’s arguments came to mind. How could an Omega oppose an Alpha? Wouldn’t it be safer for an Alpha to go, either Arthur or John? It wouldn’t be proper for an unmated Omega to go alone into enemy territory. 

Tommy had silenced them with a glare. Reminded them that he’d been surrounded by three Alpha’s in the tunnel. Reminded them that it was he, an Omega, that had got the Peaky Blinders to where they were today. Reminded them that the telegram was addressed to him. Arthur and John had backed down when Polly, finally joining the conversation had said: “Let him go. Might be good for him.”

Tommy had refused to delve into the meaning behind Polly’s words. 

##

“Let him go, Ollie, he’s only little.” A rough voice echoes around the large room, bouncing off wooden barrels filled with rum. The beta, Ollie, instantly releases Tommy’s coat, giving him last suspicious glance. “You must be Thomas, right?” The man stops a distance away, makes a small gesture with his hand and turns back the way he came. Tommy takes this as the cue to follow him. He guesses that this must be Solomons. 

As they walk Tommy inspects the large frame of the man in front of him, his scent is clearly Alpha, but he isn’t close enough to determine anything unique. Solomons walks with a cane, a slight barely noticeable limp in one leg the only sign of weakness. Broad shoulders covered with an oversized white shirt rolled haphazardly to the elbows. No care at all. 

Solomons stops abruptly at a side table lined neatly with glasses and bottles. It’s then that Tommy scents the Alpha in front of him. Initially he smells of rum, but there’s a deeper underlying scent of gun powder, smoke, and something else Tommy can’t place. Liquorice? He finds himself scenting the air with his own softer and sweeter scent, and only just manages to refrain from leaning into the man in front. 

Tommy sees Solomons’ eyes darken in response to Tommy’s own scent. He maintains eye contact with the Alpha, daring him to question Tommy’s gender. Miraculously Solomons averts his gaze first to look behind Tommy. “Get back to work,” he commands to someone behind them. “Fucking Alpha’s, no control,” Solomons mutters before turning once more to Tommy. “The office mate, might be best, given the circumstances.” Solomons eyes are still dark, his scent becoming stronger the longer he spends in Tommy’s presence. He knows exactly what it means. 

“Are you sure that’s wise, Mr Solomons?” A flicker of apprehension flutters in Tommy’s chest, but he keeps his face neutral and his voice steady. The pistol is by his hip, loaded, should he need it. 

Solomons doesn’t answer, just turns his back to Tommy and walks in what must be the direction of his office. Tommy hesitates for a second before the ache in his ribs reminds him of the Peaky Blinders desperate situation. He follows the Alpha. 

##

“Right Tommy, mate, I just want to clear one thing up,” Solomons begins once they reach the office. “I ain’t like that.” He doesn’t offer a chair to Tommy but offers him a sweet from the liquorice dish on the desk. “Fucking gypsies, not liking fucking sweets,” he mutters when Tommy declines one. 

“You aren’t like what, Mr Solomons?” Tommy states slowly. He lights a cigarette and takes a drag, mindful of the cut at the corner of his lip. 

“Alfie, we’re business partners. First name basis. Mutual level of trust in that, ain’t there, mate? You happy with me calling me mate?” Alfie doesn’t pause for Tommy to answer. “Off on a tangent again, I’d apologise but then I’d be lying, and I’m not a fucking liar, right, Tommy? You’re safe here. Your scent soured when I reacted. You see, scents give anyone away, Alpha, Omega, or Betas. I once cut an Alpha’s cock off in the trenches with a piece of shrapnel for accosting an Omega. Shoved it down his pretty little throat. Choked on that quicker than any poor fucker did on the gas…”

Tommy leans back in his chair, taking his first good look at the Alpha in front of him while Alfie is speaking. He’s handsome, Tommy will give him that. Unpredictable and rugged, as wild as his hand motions and rambling stories. And he hasn’t once mentioned Tommy’s gender in a derogatory way, but instead treated him like an equal. Usually by now there would have been an offer of knot and more than a few condescending remarks. It piques Tommy’s interest. He knows Alfie is interested, as he said himself, the deepening of his scent indicates that. Tommy finds it out of character, for such a brash unpredictable and uncontrollable man to have control over this aspect of his life. 

The meeting passes quickly, and they negotiate a deal whereby Tommy offers the protection and man power of the Peaky Blinders in return for Alfie’s help to enter London and take out Sabini’s power. Not once does Alfie belittle Tommy or remark on his Omega status. 

When they shake hands over a done deal, Alfie’s scent surrounds Tommy again and he feels himself falter. He holds the desk with one hand, glancing down when his fingers rest in something wet. Blood. It’s only now does Tommy realise that his nose is bleeding. Immediately a white handkerchief is in front of him.

“Let me get that, mate. Can’t have you going back home looking like I’ve fucking caused that. Bad for the reputation.” Before Tommy can stop him, Alfie wipes gently at the blood beneath his nose. Alfie’s scent is delectable; strong and powerful and it makes Tommy’s head light. Before Tommy can stop himself from quietly whimpering, and then he’s leaning in to Alfie’s touch, his own scent permeating the air around them. He feels rather than hears the rumble in Alfie’s chest, and the Alpha’s hands come up to guide Tommy into the crook of his neck where his scent is strongest. 

It's the feel of slick wetness between his thighs which pulls Tommy abruptly from his reverie. He pulls himself from Alfie’s embrace, shaking his head in an attempt to dislodge the thoughts of Alpha, mate, Alpha, mate. 

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr Solomons. I’ll be in touch.” Tommy says quickly. He doesn’t wait for a reply but turns on his heel and walks out the way he came. 

##

Alfie watches the captivating Omega, Tommy, walk away. Tommy’s lithe figure is tense, and he hears him snap a goodbye to Ollie. But his hands are trembling. The Omega’s scent still lingers in the air, sweet yet soft a careful mixture of sweet haylage and apples, with the subtle hint of coal which strays from Birmingham. 

Alfie’s not stupid, he knows what their reaction to each other means, knows exactly what will happen to his Tommy if he attempts to deny the bond that is already forming. But he has to wait, he can’t push Tommy. Even from this short meeting he knows that Tommy values control; from the pristine clothes, to the way he so quickly regained control of his senses. No, Tommy will have to come to Alfie. And he will. 

When Tommy’s body craves and pulls his Omega back to London, Alfie will be waiting.


	3. Acceptance of Courtship

Acceptance of Courtship. 

“It’s been two weeks, Thomas.” 

Tommy doesn’t look up from the paper. He knows what Polly is referring to. Polly is not a fool, Tommy knows she’s heard him through the night unable to sleep for the shovels have been replaced with something else, something Alpha. It’s almost as bad as the shovels, part of Tommy wishes it was the shovels. At least those dreams didn’t leave him hard and wet with slick, humiliated and panting in the darkness. 

“I’m aware.” That he hasn’t managed to sleep longer than four hours for a fortnight. That food tastes even more bland than before. That his scent is richer, sweeter. That he’s been subconsciously touching every surface, spreading his scent to try and attract the attention of the Alpha that visits his dreams. Tommy is aware of it all. 

“It’ll only get worse.” Tommy hears the concern in his aunt’s voice, covered in her usual matter of fact tone. Polly taps the ash from her cigarette and folds the newspaper away. “You know you can wait this out, it’ll get better eventually. But it will be hard.” 

Tommy knows it will get worse as the fragile beginning of the bond begins to break. A fever will start, similar in intensity to that of his heat as the bond snaps and simmers away. He knows not many have withheld from a bond, unable to deny the longing need for a mate that his body demands. Some have managed to deny it. 

But Tommy’s not sure he wants to. 

“Arthur can’t manage London on his own. He’s too rash to deal with Solomons, they’ll never work together.” It’s an excuse and Tommy knows Polly can see straight through him. But she appears to accept it. “I sent Arthur today because I was busy, I won’t do it again.”

As if on cue Arthur slams the door open. “Fucking Solomons, bat shit crazy,” he mutters as he reaches for a glass and whisky. He pours three glasses, one for each of them. “You’ll need one,” Arthur states at the pointed look Polly gives him. The glasses are placed on the table. 

Along with a white handkerchief. And a note. 

The scent from the handkerchief makes Tommy’s breathing stutter and eases the tightness in his chest. Smoke, gun powder, liquorice, and Alpha. Alfie. The tense set of his shoulders relaxes, and a faint smile graces his lips before he can stop it. Tommy reaches for the handkerchief, plain white cotton, a simple black edging along the border. Nothing special, simplistic, yet saturated in the Alpha’s scent. 

Next, he reaches for the note. It’s folded once, not sealed, but Tommy knows Arthur won’t have looked. It’s got an Alpha’s scent on it and it’s addressed to Tommy. Arthur at least acknowledges the basic etiquette, even if he doesn’t approve. The paper is crisp and cool beneath Tommy’s heated grasp. He takes a sip of the whiskey before opening it. 

I thought this would help. 

***

As loathe as Tommy is to admit it, the handkerchief helps immensely. That night he sleeps with no dreams or nightmares, surrounded by the scent on the handkerchief that lays on the bedside drawer. 

***

He manages to hold off another week. The scent from the handkerchief has faded, and now Tommy dreams of the Alpha, of gun powder and liquorice, of what it would be like to bond, and fuck, and knot. 

Tommy makes an excuse to Polly, a business meeting in London with a rival gang leader that doesn’t exist, and she rolls her eyes and excuses him. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” 

“Don’t I always?” They both know that’s only half true. 

Before he leaves, Tommy folds the gifted handkerchief, and neatly places it the breast pocket of his jacket. 

***  
Tommy finds himself uncharacteristically nervous on the drive to London. He’d denied the offer of the barge from Charlie, unwilling to be under scrutiny for so long, afraid that his thoughts would show on his face. But the drive is doing nothing to stem the flow of his thoughts. 

He’s aware that he’s old for an unmated Omega. When Tommy had presented at the young age of 14 his father had threatened marriage to a rival gang until Polly had intervened, told him to “fuck off” and their father did just that. Usually Omega’s were mated young, the subsequent pregnancies were easier on a younger body. Not that the thought of having children had ever occurred to Tommy, he’d focussed on covering his status with power and fear so that even an Alpha would cower before him. 

But now he’s wondering why Alfie Solomons, of all people, would be willing to be tied to such a dysfunctional person. Tommy knows he’s cold, knows that he’s a danger and a risk to himself, so why would any Alpha want him? Not when they could have a younger, more stereotypical Omega that would stay at home brood mare and be safe and sound. 

Tommy shudders at the thought. 

No, he most definitely doesn’t want that that. But he does want Alfie. The lure of having one constant in a life filled with uncertainty and danger is appealing. But at what cost? Could Alfie want the bond merely to remove a rival gang leader? No, Tommy didn’t think so; sending the handkerchief was more thoughtful and required more feelings than that idea suggested. 

The handkerchief was definitely a gift, a thoughtful one at that considering Tommy’s Omega predicament with a new bond forming. And it showed Alfie already had some understanding of Tommy as a person, not just an Omega. The handkerchief was plain, attracted no attention, and didn’t directly appear to be a courting gift. Something Tommy was glad of, as a romantic gesture would bring attention to his status. 

So, Alfie had initiated a courtship. And by clearly displaying the gift, Tommy would be seen to accept it. 

***

When Tommy arrives at the Bakery it’s well into the evening and the place is shrouded in darkness bar the small slit of light that spills out from under a closed door. It surprises him that Alfie leaves the Bakery unlocked and unguarded. Brave or stupid. Tommy isn’t sure which. He heads towards the light, and of he remembers correctly, this room is Alfie’s office. 

Tommy doesn’t knock, just pushes the door open with one hand and slips into the welcoming heat of the office. Alfie doesn’t look up from his work, just motions towards the chair opposite his desk. He scribbles in the book in front of him, partially literate numbers if Tommy is correct. 

The office is surprisingly tidy. Not exactly to Tommy’s standard, but more organised than he’d expect of the brash man seated opposite. The desk is an organised chaos of stacked papers, but they’re neatly piled, even if they do appear to lack any particular order. Or maybe they do. Tommy doesn’t even contemplate unravelling the inner mind of the Alpha. 

Finally, Alfie looks up, and removes his glasses. “Sorry, Tommy, mate. Numbers aren’t a strong point of mine. Requires a man’s full attention.” He places his pen in the book to mark his page and pushes the book to the side. “Liquorice?” This time Tommy accepts, and it’s sweet on his tongue. He briefly wonders if Alfie tastes the same. 

“I could have been anyone,” Tommy begins, stating the lack of security around the Bakery. 

“But you’re not. If you were, you’d have been fucking dead the minute you opened my door,” Alfie takes a sweet and places in his mouth. “Could scent you the minute you left the car, new bonds are like that.” Tommy sees the Alpha’s gaze drop to his breast pocket and something akin to possession and need flashes through his eyes. “You lasted longer than I thought you would.”

Tommy sits straighter in his chair, his mouth set in a tight line. This time he declines the extra liquorice that Alfie offers. “You know what a new bond is like for an Omega,” he spits the word and his hands clench on the armrests of his chair. 

Alfie nods thoughtfully. “I do, Tommy, but I also know that if I came to you, you’d have run.” He’s referring to the flighty instinct that Omega’s are prone to. The one Tommy has continuously beaten down since the day he presented. He bristles at the obvious mention of Omega biology and barely refrains from showing the displeasure. “It has to be you that comes to me.”

“Then why the handkerchief?” Tommy pulls the item from his pocket and drops it on the desk between them. A pang goes through his chest at letting the item go, but he ignores it. 

“I’m not a brute.” Alfie states, and he takes the handkerchief and passes it from one hand to the other. “I know what Omega’s go through, I wanted to make it easier. To comfort you until you decided you’d accept my offer of courtship.” 

Tommy doesn’t notice the certainty in the Alpha’s words, just nods absently as he watches the handkerchief being passed carelessly between the Alpha’s hands. Tommy aches to take it back, to take it back home, and keep it safe beside his bed. In his bed, on his pillow, so he can scent it whenever he needs to. Another consequence of the bond; a direct need to make his own space inviting to the other Alpha by combining a mixture of their two scents. 

A home. A nest.

He digs his nails into his palm to stop the thoughts. 

Tommy doesn’t see Alfie reach across his desk and grasp his hand gently in his. Alfie eases his fingers away from his palm, his hand smoothing over the moon shaped crescents indented in Tommy’s skin. “Don’t harm yourself, love.” The next moment Alfie’s hand is replaced with the warm handkerchief, freshly scented with smoke, gun powder, and liquorice. 

The tightening in Tommy’s chest eases now the white linen is in his hand. He folds it neatly, placing it back in his breast pocket before the Alpha can take it again. “You’ll have your work cut out for you, if that’s what you want.” Tommy meets Alfie’s gaze, searches it and finds acceptance, trust, warmth and need. 

“Does that make me a fool, if I do?” Alife crosses his arms and leans forward on the desk, his gaze intent. 

Tommy subconsciously scents the air as the Alpha leans in. The scent on the handkerchief pales beside the real thing. “Depends who you ask.”

“I’m asking you, Tommy.” The same possessive glint flashes through the Alpha’s eyes again. “I want you, and I want to court you. Can I?” 

Before Tommy has chance to catch up with his own thoughts, he finds himself nodding. “I think I’d like that.” The reply is quiet, and Tommy isn’t sure whether he’s spoken it or thought it. But the smile and the look of triumph on the Alpha’s face says otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of your comments on the previous chapter, the supportive and encouraging environment that this community has is fantastic!
> 
> The next chapters are going to be related to some of the prompts that have been sent in, so keep an eye out for those! x


	4. Unexpected Visitor

Unexpected Visitor

Tommy barely finishes the small piece of toast before the cramps begin in his lower stomach and he finds himself in the downstairs toilet. It’s cooler in here and it helps to soothe his light headedness but does nothing for nausea. He dry heaves over the bowl, throat clenching tight and gasping for breath in between. Bile rises, but nothing solid. Tears sting his eyes, but he blinks them away. Another dry heave and this time the little bit of food he’d managed splashes into the toilet. 

He wishes Alfie was here. His Alpha always knew what to say and what to do. Usually Alfie would be there with a wet cloth to wipe Tommy’s sweaty forehead and a cool glass of water to rinse his mouth. They’d sit together in the cramped little bathroom, Tommy’s face tucked in beneath Alfie’s ear, gulping in the soothing scent of smoke, gun powder, and liquorice. 

But Alfie isn’t there. He’s at the office. Ollie had phoned early that morning, waking them up to explain that their latest cargo of rum had gone missing. Vanished. “Incompetent, the fucking lot of them,” Alfie had grumbled before apologising to Tommy and saying he’d be back as soon as possible. 

Tommy had offered to come with him, but Alfie had insisted that he should rest and try to keep some food in his stomach. Usually Tommy would have ignored Alfie, waited until he’d left, and then set off to the bakery before Alfie could argue. But today the nausea and sickness had beaten him. He hadn’t even had time to enjoy Alfie’s fresh baking. 

Once Tommy was sure the dry heaving had stopped, he flushed the toilet and leaned back against the cool bathroom wall. The acrid smell still lingered but the coolness was pleasant against his sweaty back. His hand wondered down to his stomach, gently caressing the slight roundness that made it all worthwhile. 

“You need to calm down,” Tommy states and he can hear the tiredness in his own voice. He’s managed to sleep through most nights, but the bruises and humoured complaints from Alfie tells him he’s been restless in bed. “Papa needs his rest. And you need food. Making me sick isn’t doing either of us any good.” Tommy likes to think the baby would move, give him some sort of acknowledgement or thank you for his troubles, but he knows it’s too early for that. It’s still a nice thought though. 

After rinsing his mouth with cool water, Tommy makes his way through to the kitchen. The baby likes a cup of tea, if the lack of nausea is anything to go by. And surely something is better than nothing? While the kettle boils, Tommy cleans up the leftover toast from earlier and even the sight of it makes his stomach squirm. 

“Domesticity suits you.” The tone is mocking, and one Tommy hasn’t heard in years. His spine subconsciously stiffens, and he forces himself to relax and continue making the tea in front of him. Tommy hears the heavy scrape of a chair being pulled back and the long shadow it casts in the light. It’s Alfie’s chair, by the light so he can read easier without his glasses. “Two sugars, no milk.”

Tommy ignores the voice and continues making his own tea. He takes it to the table, avoiding his usual seat besides Alfie’s and instead taking the furthest away. 

Arthur Shelby Senior sits opposite. The years haven’t been kind to him and his once dark hair is streaked with grey. The hard lines around his face are more severe, and his gaze is glacial. Even though Tommy’s older, the repulsive scent of his Alpha father still causes a brief stirring of fear. 

“Did you not hear me. Two sugars no milk.” Arthur Senior’s voice is harsh, and a small mocking smile enhances the harsh lines around his mouth. 

“I heard you.” Tommy states. He takes a sip from his tea, eternally grateful that it causes no further upset to his stomach. Tommy keeps his hands around the cup, unsure what to do of them. Usually he’d light a cigarette, to occupy his hands and allow him some time to organise a plan, but he can’t, not with the baby. “The kettle is over there.”

Arthur Senior doesn’t move. His eyes don’t follow Tommy’s gesture to the kettle. Instead the smile turns into a mocking sneer and Tommy’s brought back to the night he presented. His father had been furious when he’d found Tommy in heat and had stormed out of the house to find an Alpha, any Alpha or Alphas that could fuck him through his heat, teach his son a lesson for daring to present as an Omega. It was only Arthur Junior that had managed to rouse Tommy enough for them both to stumble to Aunt Polly’s flat a few streets away. 

Tommy briefly runs through his options, should his father turn violent. There’s a gun in the hallway drawer, but he’s not sure he’d get there in time if the situation occurred. Then there’s the carving knife that Alfie uses for Sunday lunch. He doesn’t have much practice with a knife, they’re not usually as clean as a gun and requires hand to hand fighting, not something Tommy is eager for given his current condition. That leaves the rolling pin, still covered in dough and flour from Alfie’s baking last night. Tommy barely smothers a grimace at the thought of standing against his father, pregnant, with only a rolling pin for defence. 

It’s not one of Tommy’s best plans. 

“I see your Alpha hasn’t beaten obedience into you.” His father’s gaze drops to the juncture of Tommy’s neck where the faint pink scare of Alfie’s mating claim peaks above Tommy’s collar. “But he marked you good, didn’t he? Knotted you good too if the state of your body is anything to go by.” 

Tommy’s hand subconsciously moves from his teacup to his stomach, wishing to shield his child from his father’s words. “Alfie is a good Alpha, a good mate, and he’ll be a good father.” Tommy wishes he was here now though. The moral support and comforting scent would easy Tommy’s apprehension of having his wayward father in their house, their home, their nest. 

“Alfie?” Tommy sees the connections being made in his father’s head. His mind is as sharp as Tommy’s; able to plan ahead, and out manoeuvre anyone. Thankfully it’s the only thing Tommy inherited from his father. “Alfie Solomons, the Jewish gang leader?” Arthur Senior laughs humourlessly and doesn’t wait for a reply. “Ironic. Can you remember when you were 15, and you cried and begged me not to mate you off to the young Alpha Billy Kimber to avoid a dispute? And yet you do it yourself, spreading your legs for the first knot that’ll give you an advantage. You’re more like me than you think, boy.”

“I killed Billy Kimber with a single shot.” Despite the bravado, the flashes of that night assault Tommy’s mind and he does his best not to flinch. He remembers crying on the floor, choking on his own tears, and feeling vomit rise in his throat. His scent had been thick with distress. Tommy wasn’t naive; he knew what would happen if he married Kimber: a life as a broodmare, filled with abuse and neglect. The same life Tommy’s own mother had had. Suddenly the idea of using the rolling pin becomes more welcome. “And Alfie is nothing like Kimber. And nothing like you. He treats me well-”

“As much as I’d like to hear you praise me some more, love, I’d like to know who the fuck is in my chair.” Relief swells in Tommy and he subtly scents the air around him, taking in the soothing scent of his Alpha. He notices Alfie do the same, the brief barely noticeable flare of his nostrils, and the how his scent thickens to drown out the cloying scent of his father. “But I think I’ve got a good idea. Uncanny resemblance to your brother Arthur. Thank fuck you didn’t take after him for your looks.”

Tommy sees the minute change in his father. The way his shoulders shift back and how his gaze attempts to meet Alfie’s. When they were younger, they had to learn to read their father through these small movements. It could often give them a few seconds to move away from a strong kick or a swift backhand. But this one he hasn’t seen. If Tommy had to guess, he’d say his father is worried. He knows Alfie cuts an imposing figure. 

“And you must be Alfie Solomons, my son’s mate and Alpha.” Arthur Senior nods his head towards the chair beside him, attempting to regain control of the situation. But Alfie remains standing. 

“That I am,” Alfie takes a slow step forward, towards Arthur Senior. “And you’re a traditionalist fucking Alpha, if I’ve heard correctly. Whose mate hanged herself rather than be with you.” Tommy is aware of his father’s gaze, the accusation and anger directed at him for speaking openly about his childhood. “So, tell me this, Mr Shelby,” Alfie’s eyes widen and take on a maniac glint that Tommy has only seen a handful of times. It works, and Arthur Senior shrinks back into his chair. “Why the fuck have you entered my house, and approached my Omega, without my direct explicit permission?” 

The traditionalist terms Alfie uses would normally irk Tommy, but he knows it’s the only the way his father would respect Alfie and take his threats seriously. 

“He’s my son –”

Alfie abruptly interrupts. “As far as I’m aware, Tommy is Ms Polly Grey’s son, Mr Shelby. Merely being a biological donor does not make you Tommy’s father. And I’ve killed many people, for far less, than approaching my territory and my pregnant mate. So, I suggest you fuck off, and save my employees from cleaning your blood from the floor.”

Arthur Senior stiffens in his chair, unaccustomed to being directed and threatened by others. For a brief moment Tommy wonders if his father will be stupid enough to challenge Alfie in his own home. But instead Arthur Senior stands and brushes past Alfie and stops in front of Tommy. He reaches a hand out, as if for an affectionate touch, if his father knew of such things, but the deep growl from Alfie makes him pause. 

He leaves without a backward glance. 

As soon as the door shuts, Alfie pulls Tommy from his chair and embraces him in a secure, warm hold. Alfie’s hands roam Tommy’s body; down his arms, over his hips, his back, and his stomach. Tommy knows what his Alpha needs and he exposes his neck in a submissive manner to allow Alfie to scent him thoroughly. “I’m ok, Alfie. He didn’t do anything. Didn’t even touch me.” Teeth graze Tommy’s mating mark and he doesn’t try to fight the flood of hormones that make him pliant in Alfie’s arms. 

“Need you upstairs.” The rumble distorts Alfie’s voice and Tommy knows he would see flecks of red in his Alpha’s eyes. “Now.” Alfie lifts Tommy easily and for once he doesn’t complain about being manhandled. He’s aware that Alfie needs this, requires the satisfaction of knowing that his Omega is unharmed and safe, and that he did enough to protect his pregnant mate. It’s an instinct which surfaces when an Alpha feels his mate, children, or nest have been threatened, and given their precarious line of work, Tommy has seen it more than a few times. 

“I know you do,” Tommy soothes, and presses his lips to his Alpha’s neck. “And you can see that we’re both safe, that we’re both fine. You did your job, Alfie, nothing happened to your family.” The calming words seem to have some effect and the rumbling ceases in Alfie’s chest. 

Tommy had gradually accepted some of the traditional Omega roles – soothing his Alpha being the most enjoyable one. The first time Alfie had reacted in such a protective and possessive manner Tommy had argued with him and threatened to leave, only inciting the Alpha even more. He’d learned afterwards, after seeing the devastated effect it had on Alfie, that both of them would need to accept things for their bond to thrive. 

When they reach the bedroom, Alfie places Tommy gently on the bed and begins to pull at the buttons on his shirt. “I’ll do them, Alpha.” The use of the word Alpha sparks something in Alfie and Tommy sees some of the red flecks fade in his eyes. He quickly makes unbuttons his shirt and pulls his under vest off at the same time, exposing his chest and slightly swelled stomach to Alfie’s gaze. Tommy doesn’t miss the appreciated rumble from Alfie. 

Alfie’s appreciated gaze doesn’t linger long, soon replaced by large warm hands which skim over Tommy’s sides, his chest, and his stomach. Alfie purrs lowly, and breathes Tommy’s sent in deeply. The physical proof of no injuries appears to appease his Alpha. His Alpha moves further down Tommy’s body and glances up to ask permission. Tommy nods his consent, and Alfie removes his trousers, gently removing one leg at a time. 

Once more Alfie runs his hands over his mate’s body; over his thighs, up his calves, and across the swell of his buttocks. There’s nothing sexual about this, it’s only Tommy’s Alpha checking for injuries, but he finds himself whimpering as Alfie’s fingers brush against his body. 

A need arises deep within Tommy, not one for sex, but one for comfort, ignited by the safety and warmth his Alpha provides. Once more Alfie’s hand brushes over Tommy’s gently rounded stomach, but this time Tommy catches his hand and presses his hand more firmly to his stomach. He feels Alfie’s intense gaze shift from his stomach to his face and his Alpha’s hand moves purposely. 

“No, Alpha, it’s not what you think.” The hand stops briefly and moves to cup Tommy’s face, the thumb tracing his cheekbone. “We’re ok, the baby’s ok. But we need you.” The hand on his face prevents Tommy from looking away, and a red flush graces his cheeks. Over the years Tommy has gotten better for asking things from his Alpha, but it’s still difficult to admit the need after years of burying it deep. 

The sourness of Alfie’s worry disappears, and the sweetness of liquorice returns upon hearing Tommy’s request. “Anything, you need, love.” He presses a brief kiss to his Omega’s lips, before moving away to remove his own clothing. 

Alfie returns quickly, and the brief feeling of loss and absence Tommy feels is replaced with warmth and safety. His Alpha is pressed against Tommy’s back, his body lined perfectly and flush with Tommy’s. They’d found out early that this position calmed Alfie’s overreactive nerves the quickest. Alfie’s hand returns to the swell of Tommy’s stomach, and he presses his nose beneath Tommy’s ear where the scent of apples and haylage is strongest. 

As the minutes pass Tommy feels the tension in Alfie’s muscles relax and the final low rumblings cease. He smiles into his pillow and snuggles closer to his Alpha’s embrace. 

Somehow, despite his father’s constant derogatory remarks about his Omega status, Tommy had grown to accept that status and enjoy those traits which came along with it. 

Particularly those traits which ended with him in his Alpha’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've posted this chapter early because I've currently experiencing a major writing block (I have three lines written. And these three lines have been staring at me for the past few days), so I'm hoping that posting this will help my motivation and remove the huge brick wall I've come across. 
> 
> Plus it's been my favourite chapter to write. It practically wrote itself. So I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! x


	5. Charlie

Charlie

“Oh, Tommy, you’ve got a strong boy. A strong baby boy.”

Tommy falls back, exhausted, against Alfie’s chest as a sudden loud cry fills their bedroom. He releases his tight grip on Alfie’s hands, offering a silent apology to his Alpha when he sees the white finger shaped marks on his skin. Tommy struggles to sit up right, to see their child, but a combination of pain and Alfie’s restricting hold keeps him back. A whimper escapes and he holds his shaking hands out for the child. 

“Shh, love,” Alfie shushes, and guides Tommy’s face to the crook of his neck. Gratefully Tommy uses the calming scent of his Alpha to ground himself. “Polly’s wrapping him in a blanket. Don’t want him getting cold, do we?” Tommy nods, too exhausted to argue with his mate, but he turns his head to diligently watch Polly and Ada wrap the squirming bundle in a pale blue blanket from their nest. 

Ada sees Tommy’s protective gaze and she smiles and places the baby in Tommy’s arms. She says something, but Tommy doesn’t hear her, all he hears the strong healthy cry of his son. “Charlie,” Tommy says quietly, and traces over the baby lightly with one hand. Charlie is healthy, and for that Tommy is eternally grateful. His skin is pink and flush, and his little fingers are loosely gripped around the blanket. On instinct Tommy raises the child to his own neck, so they can both scent each other and consolidate the strong bond that links them. Charlie has a subtle scent, it’s a combination of Tommy’s apple and Alfie’s liquorice, but in time it will develop into something more unique. 

Charlie quietens quickly, embraced by his Papa’s warm arms and comforting, soothing scent. Tommy takes this time to take in the tiny details of his child’s face. The red flush from his annoyed cry at being brought into the world is fading to a gentle pink, and two curious blue eyes gaze at Tommy. His pink little rosebud mouth curves as if to smile. “Papa loves you.” He feels tears of joy sting his eyes and he bites his lip to prevent them from falling. “Your handsome boy aren’t you, just like your Daddy.”

It’s at that moment that a hand dares to stroke gently over Charlie’s head, and Tommy pulls Charlie closer to his chest and growls lowly from his chest. The hand instantly pulls back but is still too close to Charlie. Tommy bares his teeth and growls again, this time louder and he hears Charlie snuffle in his arms – 

“Tommy, pack that in!” The sharp reprimand of Polly’s voice startles Tommy from his protective daze. “That’s your Alpha you’re threatening. I doubt he’s going to harm his own child.” 

Tommy swallows and ducks his head, the tears prickling at his eyes once more. He doesn’t know where those instincts have come from, and the reprimand hurts more than Tommy wants to admit. He buries his face into Charlie’s neck, embracing the clean fresh scent of his child. The baby is ok. Charlie is ok. Alfie isn’t going to harm him. 

He becomes vaguely aware of someone’s voice in the background. He sees two people, women, leave the room. He can’t breathe. He’s going to drop the baby. He’s going to drop Charlie. He’s going to harm Charlie. 

“- Tommy, I need you breathe. Breathe with me.” The chest that he’s leaning against rises and falls steadily. Warm expressed air brushes against the damp hair at Tommy’s nape. It’s difficult to match it, but Tommy tries anyway and eventually his breathing slows to a few hitches and the room around him comes back into focus. 

The room is dimly lit by the bedside lamps, and it casts a shadow across the stained blankets in the corner. Tommy nods to himself, vaguely remembering that Polly and Ada had been present to assist in the delivery. They must have forgotten the blankets when they left. He’s currently on a bed, with his new baby in his arms, and there’s a fresh towel beneath his legs, covering the damp bedding beneath. They should move, it can’t be good for Charlie being near that. 

“Love, are you back with me?” Tommy turns to acknowledge the voice behind him, and he meets the loving and admiring gaze of his Alpha. Heat rises and spreads across Tommy’s cheeks when his earlier behaviour comes back. He’d growled at Alfie. “Tommy, it’s ok, it’s natural to be protective.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not, he’s your baby too.” With help from Alfie, Tommy twists so Charlie is on show to his father. “Look how gorgeous he is.” A smile blossoms across Alfie’s face as he takes in the fair features of their child. 

“He’s just like you, love,” and this time Tommy allows Alfie’s to trace his fingers of their child’s tiny features. “Thank you, Tommy. For all this, you’re the most amazing mate I could hope for.” Alfie’s eyes sparkle with wetness and Tommy readjusts Charlie so he can wipe away the stray tears that escape down his Alpha’s face. “He’s got your eyes; how will I ever be able to look anywhere else? You’ve both got me caught.”

Tommy nudges his Alfie lightly in the stomach, but he can’t stop smiling at the compliments. Not when he’s got his healthy baby boy in his arms and he’s made his adoring and charming mate so happy. “Behave,” he chastises instead. “Look at who you’ve woken up,” Tommy rocks Charlie in his arms when he sees his blue eyes scrunch up and his hands for grasping fists.

“I think someone’s hungry,” Alfie states and Tommy can hear the pleasure in his voice. “Would you like to move to the nest, love? It might be comfier for you both.” The nest is in the corner of their bedroom, made of the comfiest materials Tommy collected during his pregnancy. The items are mostly those of Tommy and Alfie’s, including their courtship handkerchief, but he’d also subconsciously collected a few items of the wider family. Polly’s hat, Ada’s fur coat, Arthur’s tie, John’s hunting gloves, and an old stuffed teddy of Finn’s. Tommy would like to think that the family haven’t noticed the misplacement of their possessions, but he’d noticed the smirk on John’s face and the new tie Arthur had bought. 

Tommy nods and it takes a few moments for him to pass Charlie into Alfie’s arms. Immediately he misses the warm weight of his son, so he busies himself with tucking the warm furry blanket around his small frame. Charlie grasps the corner of the blanket and places it in his mouth, tugging free Tommy’s efforts to keep his son warm and secure. 

“I think he’s going to be stubborn. Like you,” Tommy grumbles but it’s light hearted and Alfie ignores him by pressing a kiss to his temple. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing! Now go on, get yourself comfortable.” 

Tommy moves gingerly, a dull pain from his lower body causes him to wince. His whole-body trembles from exertion and exhaustion but the thought of curling up in the warm nest, with his Alpha and child keeps him moving. He’s aware of Alfie’s intense gaze on his body, and Tommy feels a brief moment of self-consciousness despite the nine hours of labour that Alfie had been present for. 

“Would you be able to get me a cloth, and a basin?” Tommy finally asks when the self-consciousness becomes too much. “After Charlie’s in the nest though.” The need for his child overcomes everything else, and Tommy takes little time in making himself comfortable enough to feed his child. 

When Charlie is once more comfortable in his Papa’s arms, Alfie reluctantly leaves the room in search of clean cloths and a wash basin. He’s aware that Tommy’s self-consciousness has peaked now that the birth is over, no doubt influenced the flux in his hormones too. So, he gives Tommy enough time to get Charlie comfortable and feeding, aware that his mate would feel apprehensive the first time their child fed. Instead he busies himself with the task he’s been given, filling the basin with luke-warm water and using the non-scented soap from Polly to create mounds of bubbles.

Polly and Ada had been invaluable during Tommy’s labour. They may not have known the exact anatomy of a male Omega, but they were both experienced with having their own children, and Polly had helped Tommy’s mother during her own labour with the three youngest Shelby’s. Due to them, Alfie had been able to concentrate on keeping his mate calm and providing encouragement; knowing that his child would be safe in the hands of Polly and Ada. 

When he opens the bedroom door, he pauses to take in the sight before him. Tommy had discarded the blue blanket, instead opting for the warming skin to skin contact to further progress their bond with Charlie. He had Charlie cradled in his arms, the baby’s face hidden against Tommy’s chest, and soft barely audible sucking sounds filled their bedroom. 

“Tommy?” Alfie says it quietly, reluctant to break the peaceful look on his mate’s face. He places the basin and cloths beside the nest. When Tommy glances up, he nods and Alfie accepts this gesture and carefully lies next to Tommy in the nest. “Is he feeding well?”

“Of course, he’s got a strong appetite. Takes after you for that one, thankfully.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos! 
> 
> I'm not totally over the dreaded writer's block (this was wrote before that arrived) so I'm slowly chipping away at another chapter. Hopefully you'll see it soon! xx

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! I'd be grateful if you could leave a comment, especially on areas I could improve on or areas you particularly enjoyed. 
> 
> I am open to requests relating to Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics for Tommy and Alfie, and I'd be grateful if you could give me any ideas! 
> 
> Thanking you! x


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